Gentle steps of the keys play separately,
yet, together the music becomes a harmony
of memory and of verse.
Verse now resident of the soul,
to be written in prose of tomorrows.
Forgotten, we continue with music,
music of feelings never forgotten
© CMM 2013
Cleaning my desk,
I opened an envelope stuffed
with keepsakes, cards, letters.
Crinkled against time, some tattered
with wear, I saw an old familiar address.
Pulling it from the pile was like pulling
a friend from the reservoirs of memories.
I opened it, the dust had settled on his words
as ashes and sand settled on his grave.
He had written to tell me that he was diagnosed
with cancer …
He reflected in ink, spilling his frozen moments
of time on the paper, as he waits for the rest of his treatments.
Slipped in the envelope was a picture he had taken
of a seagull taking flight.
It was this, the lost letter, I had looked for
© CMM 2013
But, from the hopeful one?
Cold the sun
which days now come,
a frozen still breath,
a summer now done.
to watch and listen
a quiet sublime.
Oh, but the promise
of summer’s youth,
is lost among dried
leaves now mute.
No wind, no breeze,
does not remain
as time has come,
winter’s season now reclaimed.
© CMM 2012